Drink The First, Sip The Second, & Skip The Third
by Jennyferr
Summary: Set for after season seven. Told from Logan's POV. So he's depressed, has an anxiety disorder...and is still stuck on Rory : Read and review?
1. I'm No Oliver Reed

AN: Well. I pumped out a new one. This idea has been on my mind lately, so I decided to go for it. It takes place about three months after season seven. I know I have one sort of like this, except this one is very different. This is kind of a short chapter, but its to get the ball rolling…Reviews…well they're nice, now aren't they?

"Have you ever felt you needed to **c**ut down on your drinking?" He asked me, peering over the top of his glasses.

"My rule of life prescribed as an absolutely sacred rite smoking cigars and also the drinking of alcohol before, after and if need be during all meals and in the intervals between them." I said plainly staring at the ceiling.

"Winston Churchill…again. Will I ever hear from you, Logan?"

I continued my game of a staring match with the ceiling.

"Have people **a**nnoyed you by criticizing your drinking?"

"Well, no one's ever dubbed me and Oliver Reed."

"So, you aren't overly criticized for your drinking?"

He pried, and I was winning the staring match.

"Have you ever felt **g**uilty about your drinking?"

"A woman drove me to drink, and I never had the courtesy to thank her."

"So…W.C. Fields. I'm taking these quotes as how _you_ feel Logan."

Neither of us was blinking, the ceiling put up a fair fight.

"Have you ever felt you needed a drink first thing in the morning. An **e**ye-opener to steady your nerves or to get rid of a hangover?"

"The only cure for a real hangover is death."

"And there's Robert Benchley. Now that we have the quotes of iconic drinkers…why don't you tell me about that last quote? What does that mean to you?"

I stayed in my position. The only thing keeping me from lashing out was my contest with the ceiling. If he had wanted me to say anything, he should have known better than to **CAGE** me. Cut down, annoy, guilt, eye-opener. I knew this tactic backwards and forwards. My own mother had once tried this on me, with fewer results than my therapist.

I had learned when it came to therapists, and paid by the hour sessions, quoting dead people was a real crowd pleaser.

"Your father pays for these sessions, Logan."

_Don't break your stare. _

"I'm sure he'd like you to make progress."

_Don't say it. _

"I hope you know he cares."

_Shit. He crossed the line._

"Frankly, my father doesn't give two shits about me, Dr. Reed."

_Great, I had caved. I had opened Pandora's box._

"And why is that, Logan?"

_Stare. Just keep staring._

"You've already let it slip about your father, what's stopping you now?"

_Don't break. _

He sighed, setting his notepad and pen down. "I believe what little progress we made, is all we will for today." I rose from the leather couch and walked out the door, bidding neither the ceiling, nor my therapist goodbye.

I drove, the short distance back to my father's house. I think the only reason I was allowed to take the car was because of the short drive.

I entered the foyer, placed the keys in the same dish, on the same table I had for three months now. I hung my coat on the same nub on the same coat rack. I once again shuffled down the same silent hallway, to the same dark room. I fell on the same unmade bed, and fell into the same depressing sleep.

"Logan, honey…" I jumped at the hand on my shoulder. _It was just her_, I thought sadly.

"I'm not hungry." I turned the other cheek, and pushed my head into the pillow, avoiding her.

"I wish you would eat…"

_I wish I could eat._

"Your dad really is worried about you."

_Like I hadn't heard that everyday since the beginning._

"So that's why he pulls twice the workload now."

She rubbed my arm, in an almost motherly way. "You know that he throws himself into his work when he's upset."

"If he were really concerned and worried, like you say, he wouldn't have started any of this to begin with."

"He had to. You were throwing- "

"Throwing my life away? I get that from him, I don't need that from you, mother."

"We're just worried about you, Logan." She smoothed my ruffled hair down and kissed it. She only acted like this when I was sick.

As she closed the door I returned to my original position. Lying on my back, staring at the ceiling.

I just kept thinking had I gone to California I would never be in this situation. If I hadn't spent the days after graduation becoming a drunken mess, I wouldn't be here. If Colin didn't have to pick me up from the floor, I wouldn't be here. If I hadn't been prescribed Alprazolam with my father's coaxing I wouldn't be here.

My mind was so full of "what ifs" right now I couldn't bring myself to think about the "right nows". I couldn't think about how my mother had socially exiled herself, developing depression much like my own. I couldn't think about my father not coming home until three, no longer taking Sundays off, because he was worried and "threw" himself into his work. I couldn't think about a family full of people wondering what prompted me to do what I did, wondering if it was on purpose. When in fact, it was a mistake.

But the one thing I couldn't bear to think about was the life I had left behind the past couple of months. And the person.


	2. Thanks For The Misery

"So, let's talk about what drives you to drink." He said, again looking over the top of his glasses.

I lay in the same position, as usual, staring at the ceiling. I was counting the moments until I could return home and sleep.

He paused as if expecting an answer, but then continued. "Could it have to do with your father?"

That struck me as funny, he always played these mind games with me; he knew damn well it had do with my father.

"Maybe its influence from your friends?"

That made me laugh. They were the only ones trying to stop me lately.

"I take that to mean no. So maybe it has to do with your previous girlfriend?"

He was crossing lines again, my jaw clenched.

"Is that what happened, Logan."

It was taking a lot for me to hold back. I could just feel myself about to blow.

"She was the one that made you this way?"

"You know, Dr. Reed, I'd like to know where you get your information…I mean whoever tells you these things obviously knows nothing about me." I was pissed beyond reason. I hated it more than anything when someone assumes they know what makes me tick. He knew nothing about me, other than what was on his charts.

"So why don't you tell me?"

I could've slapped myself. I had played right into the palm of his hand.

"You keep letting things slip out, Logan…I know your type. Willing to give me nothing, keeping things bottled up inside of you," he sighed, as if saying it was a sad thing, "until things erupt. Like what happened with you…you keep this up, and something much worse will happen."

_What the hell, _I thought_, I had already let so much slip it couldn't hurt to keep going. _"Like what?"

"Like suicide…that you actually go through this time."

He still knew nothing, and that made me boil even more"Your charts should tell you that I've said it was an accident."

"You can keep denying it; or you can just learn to accept it."

"There is nothing for me to accept. You were not there, you do not know what happened."

"I have been informed."

"Well, were you also informed that Mitchum's the one who coaxed the doctor into prescribing me the medicine?"

"Yes."

"So none of the blame comes on him?"

"Logan, your father knows it was wrong, and he feels-"

"A great deal of remorse?" I sat up. "Is that what you were going to say?"

"Well, yes."

"Oh, well since you know him so well, maybe you could enlighten me…that must be why he's been pulling overtime every day. And that's also why the only words he's said to me in three months were, you're moving back in." I laughed. " I guess he cares so much that everything he "wants" to tell me has to come through my mother."

"Did you ever think he might have difficulty telling you himself?"

"Well, he's never had trouble telling me what a worthless piece of shit I am before."

I stared at him while he scribbled on his notepad. I had really come out of my comfort zone with him during that session. I hadn't ever let that much slip to any doctor, or most people for that matter.

"Well, Mr. Huntzberger, I believe we'll continue this again next Wednesday."

"I believe so." I nodded at him before I left the room. It was funny how fast an hour passed when you kept things bottled up.

I came home and went through my usual routine of setting my keys and coat in the same place. I had just gone to lie down when I heard the usual creak of my door and light flooding my room. Then the usual gentle rubbing arm, "I'm not hungry." I said, as usual, trying to get her to leave.

"I'm not offering." I looked up to see my mother holding my phone, throwing off our usual routine. "Its doctor Reed." I dropped my head back into my pillow, grabbing the phone from her. She left the room, and only a crack of light remained.

"Hello."

"Logan, I forgot to give you an assignment for next time we meet."

"Homework…?" This was unbelievable, not only was it an effort going to therapy, I now had to put more into it.

"You could say that. I want you to write a letter to the main cause of your drinking. Bring it in with you next session; you don't have to read it. We'll burn it, or rip it, or whatever else you want. But we will discuss it." He paused. "So…don't forget, and I'll see you Wednesday." I dropped the phone on the bed, still laying face down. I put the letter out of my mind and fell asleep.

I sat up in complete darkness. It was three-fifteen and I heard Mitchum coming upstairs, just getting in from work. I rose from my bed, closed the door, and lay back down. I spent a couple minutes with my eyes closed trying to sleep, but I couldn't. All I could think about was that stupid letter.

I went to my desk and flicked on my light. I knew I had to get this letter over with. No matter how much I hated the idea of doing something someone else told me to do, I felt like I needed to.

After moments of contemplation I decided to just go for it.

Dear Rory,

I guess I'll never get over you. I mean that's why I'm writing this to you, because you're to blame for all my problems.

And I'm sorry that I gave you an ultimatum like you did to me, and it backfired in my face. I really just wanted to be with you and came back to bite me in the ass. Sorry I ever cared.

I felt the happiest around you, and it's just so ironic that now I feel the worst around you…or when I think about you. You always used to make me want to be a better person, and now you just make me miserable.

And I hate you for that. I hate you for turning me into somebody who can't do anything without being reminded of you…or can't lead a normal life because everything is miserable for me. And you did that, solely you.

I want this letter to be the last I think of you, and the last I have to deal with you. I hate how things ended, and I hate that we have to be this way. But maybe this will help me to come to grips with it.

- Logan

And with that I set my pen down. It was a spiteful letter, but it was exactly how I felt. I stuck it in an envelope and wrote her name on. Rubbing my eyes, and glancing at the clock I noticed it was almost five. It had taken me over an hour to write that stupid letter.

I tossed it on my desk and turned out the light. I sat dozing for a couple of minutes before deciding to go back to bed.

Then came the gentle touch on my arm again. "Logan, honey…do you want lunch."

"No," came my reply. That was really a lie, though; I was starving.

She sighed getting up from the edge of my bed and left the room. I rolled over looking at my clock, and saw it was two. Then something much more interesting caught my eye; the letter on my desk was gone.

I jumped from my bed and over walked to the desk…it was really gone. I had to grip the sides of my desk…I couldn't breathe…I felt like my throat was closing. I was sweating and my hands were shaking. All these terrible situations popped into my head…I couldn't take it…I had to find out what had happened to the letter.

I stumbled down the stairs, my heart pounding, and my hands still trembling. I saw my mother sitting at the table eating, she looked so peaceful, and I wanted to ruin that. I wanted her to feel as bad as I did at the moment.

"Did you…take that letter off of my desk?" I said pointing in the direction of my room, my hand still trembling in mid-air.

She finished chewing the bit of sandwich she was eating, and wiped the corners of her mouth. "Yes I did, I put in the mail for you. You didn't leave a return address so I did that as well." I was having an internal argument at the moment. I was telling myself that it wasn't her fault she was just trying to be nice. Then on the other hand I was saying she was a nosey bitch trying to ruin my life.

"There wasn't even an address on it…how could you mail it?" I felt light-headed. My shaking and sweating had increased tenfold as I stared at her, hoping her answer would be she didn't realize…she just put it in the mailbox without realizing.

"I just looked her up in your address book…honestly, Logan, what's gotten into you?"

I stared at her…I could feel my legs turning into putty…I heard a thud that didn't seem like it was coming from myself, as I hit the floor.

And then I awoke in the hospital, for the second time in the past month.

"It seems that whatever event occurred triggered a panic attack." The white-coated doctor was telling my mother, and only my mother, as Mitchum didn't seem to be present.

"A panic attack?"

"Yes. It's a period of intense fear, anxiety, or distress. Its usually-"

My mother cut him off, "No. I know what a panic attack is, I'm not retarded. I just don't see why he," she said gesturing in my direct, "would have one."

"Well, considering his history, Mrs. Huntzberger, a panic attack isn't that out of the ordinary."

"I'm sorry…you're saying that it's ordinary for my son to act like a mental case!"

"Mrs. Huntzberger, maybe you should come in my office…"

"No. I will stand where I am at, thank you, I am perfectly capable of taking your news here."

"Fine, you know you're son's condition, I'm sure." She nodded. "Well, mixed-anxiety depressive disorder is characterized by irrational fears of everyday things and also fatigue and being prone to headaches, I'm sure you know that as well." She gave another nod. "Common symptoms of just GAD are similar to those of a panic attack. Since this was just a one time thing, and not an on-going series of events, it was easier to conclude that it was a panic attack."

"And…?"

"His therapy obviously hasn't been working, we suggest that he starts having it more often. You could possibly have another hour session scheduled for Fridays, as well."

My mother sank into a chair; she was obviously having trouble dealing with the fact that her son is a mental case. I could see her eyes start to water, and the doctor become tense as most did when a patient's relatives showed emotion. After a few brief moments of silence, his pager went off and he was excused from the room, much to his relief.

I watched my mother dig around her purse and produce a cigarette and lighter. She had started to light when I spoke, "You're not supposed to smoke in hospitals mother, especially when you're in a room with the ill." She looked up and dropped her hand with the lighter. Sighing she put away the cigarette and lighter.

"So, I guess you heard all that, then?" She walked to the side of my bed.

I nodded as she had to the doctor.

"I'm sorry, Logan…" she started to break into tears, and hid her face in her hands, " I feel like this is my fault…" Even though she was playing the very well used dramatic card, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"Its not your fault…"

"No…" she sobbed, "If I hadn't…I could of stopped this…"

"You couldn't have done anything."

"I could've stepped in, I could've recognized it earlier."

"Mom…"

She looked at me, teary-eyed and opened her mouth to say something, something that would make me feel guiltier, but she was interrupted.

"Look what we have here…" Colin trailed off walking in the room, Finn followed close behind, eyeing a nurse on rounds. I smiled at the sight of them; they had truly been there for me, throughout everything. "Hello, Shira." Colin said, hugging my mother. I think the only reason she hadn't cringed at the thought of hugging one of my friends was because of her fragile state.

"Hello, boys." She replied, breaking away from her half-hearted hug…wiping her eyes. "Excuse me for a moment," she smiled, "I'm gonna take a quick break…let you boys talk."

Colin and Finn waited until she left the room to pull up chairs and begin asking questions.

"So, what exactly happened?" Colin asked.

"I- it was nothing…really." I said, Colin and Finn exchanged glances.

"Logan, you didn't-"

"No, Colin, I did not." I looked away out of annoyance and embarrassment. "I had a panic attack."

"Panic attack…?" Finn scoffed. Colin gave him a look of incredibility. "I meant…uh," he stuttered, "why'd you have to come to the hospital for a panic attack."

"I don't know." I was even more annoyed now. "I…had to write a letter, thanks to Dr. Reed, to the main cause of my drinking…and I did, and my mother accidentally mailed it…"

"Who was it to?" Colin asked.

"Uh…Rory." I scratched my head, still not looking at either of them.

Both their eyes grew wide.

"What'd you say?" Finn asked.

"Well…I definitely conveyed strong feelings of bitterness, resentment…and hate."

"Wow…" Colin remarked.

"Yep, wow…"

"Well…maybe it didn't get to her," Finn suggested.

"No, God doesn't like me that much," I sighed. The doctor reentered the room to tell my mother it was safe for me to go home, but she was still on her break, so he instead he told me to drink plenty of liquids and that he conversed with Dr. Reed, who agreed that a Friday session, would help.

So my mother drove me back to the house, and Colin and Finn left to do whatever it is that they do, and I once again retired to my room.

I slept for around three hours total. The rest of those hours I spent creating scenarios of what would happen. I couldn't stand laying around and obsessing over this so I decided to see if there was anything to eat.

I went down stairs and it struck me that the house was dead silent. I walked throughout the whole house and my mother was gone- I finally came across a note of hers attached to a sandwich in the kitchen.

I sat at the table, reading the note; which said she went to a banquet, and eating the sandwich, when the doorbell rang. I crossed the dining room to the foyer and answered the door.

I had an immediate dizziness sensation. My heart rose to my throat and was pounding. My palms were sweating, and my breathing was shallow.

On my doorstep was my missing letter and the recipient holding it.


	3. Commit The Same Wrongs Twice

The door hung open and she still stood with the letter. My breathing was heavier and slower…I watched her standing there, getting ready to let me have it.

"How dare you!" She started out. "How dare you blame all your problems on me!"

She pushed past me, and walked straight into my foyer. That seemed odd to me, at one time I would never have imagined her to do that…or yell like that.

"Come in…" I mumbled closing the front door and turning to face her.

"You know the funniest part of this was when you said, and I quote, "_I hate you for that. I hate you for turning me into somebody who can't do anything without being reminded of you…or can't lead a normal life because everything is miserable for me. And you did that, solely you_." She let her hand fall to her side, and looked at me furious. "How dare you!"

"Oh, you certainly haven't said that enough…" I felt embarrassed that she had read the letter, I felt embarrassed that she was standing before me holding it, calling me out on it.

She glared at me.

"I'm sorry, continue your yelling."

She looked back at the letter.

"I just meant that it's unfair for you to blame all of this on me."

I shook my head at her. I guess she didn't get that she had really hurt me.

"Logan, I am not your father! I'm not the reason you're like this," she defended.

I was taken aback by her words…I guess my face had showed it, because she quickly backtracked before I could suggest she enlighten me as to why I was "like this".

"I didn't mean that…well, I did…I just…didn't mean for it to come out that way," she finished.

There was an awkward pause.

"Then who is, Rory?" I asked, looking straight at her. The blood was rising in me, and I was getting angry. I hated the fact that she thought I was some sick little messed up boy she was trying to help. "You seem to have all the answers, so why don't you fill me in?"

"Logan…" She began, but it was me who cut her off this time.

"No." I said more violently than I intended, "It is never anyone else's fault! I'm always the screw-up…I'm always to blame. Can't you accept the fact, Rory, that maybe for once something could be blamed on you?"

She started to interject, but I cut her off again.

"I mean you haven't forgotten what you did to me, have you? You don't think that has anything to do with this?"

She stared at the paper while I yelled at her. I could see her tying to keep her welling eyes from overflowing, as she just continued to stare at the letter.

"I didn't mean to…"

"But you did, Rory." I said harshly. "You can't change that."

She was biting her lip as if to keep from sobbing, and she kept staring at the paper.

"I want to…I really do…Logan…I wish you'd believe me…"

I could tell she meant it. I didn't know what to say or do next. Part of me wanted her to leave, and part of me really just wanted to comfort her; to tell her everything was forgiven, and to hug her and tell her everything was okay.

She just looked up at me with watery eyes, still holding the letter. And I wanted to make her understand how I felt; I wanted her to know that I still resented her…but I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to go to her and just wrap my arms around her…just to let her know that I was there, that I still cared for her.

And that's just what I did; all heart racing, hand trembling, breath shortening, and dizziness aside. I hugged her.

I had broken barriers I set in my mind, and next I kissed her. I was still trembling, and I just wanted to forget everything. I didn't want to hate anymore, I didn't want to loathe, or resent her anymore…until she broke away.

"I can't do this Logan…this isn't why I came…" She avoided looking at me."That's not what it seems like."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you just gave me that Rory look…"

"What Rory look?"

"Its…I don't know…I can't really define it…its just a look…"

"I'm sorry…" she shrugged.

"Yeah, you seem to be saying a lot of that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just that every time I've talked to you you've apologized for something."

"Okay…"

"Well, just you keep saying sorry for things…but why do you keep doing them if you're sorry…?"

"I didn't try to do anything. I didn't mean for things to keep happening, I'm sorry…what happened was a mistake…I shouldn't have-"

"Oh, I don't believe that. You're not an idiot, Rory. You're probably the smartest person I know, and when you do something you think it through and you make a decision! You don't just do things without trying, that's not you."

"I don't know, Logan…things were hectic…I was confused about things…I had definitely taken a page out of Dorothy Parker's book…and it was…just a mistake."

"Mistakes are a part of being human. Appreciate your mistakes for what they are: precious life lessons."

"Logan, I'm not playing the quote game with you…I don't even know why I'm still here."

"You weren't done making me miserable yet?"

"Oh yes, that's exactly why I came, Logan, in hopes that I could crush your soul!"

"Well I think you conquered that objective before today." She glared at me again, but I couldn't feel badly about it. Everything I had said was true, she'd hurt me and denied meaning to do it.

"Well, I think you made it pretty clear you wanted to leave…" I hinted as to why she was still here.

"You're blocking the door."

"Oh," I moved aside and held it open for her, "drive safe."

She looked at me with an expression that told me she was sorry, but she hated me all the same. And I slammed the door after she stepped out of its frame.

"So that was quite an encounter." Dr. Reed remarked as I finished my story.

"It always is when it comes to Rory Gilmore." I said solemnly leaning back in my seat.

"So, I understand this incident made you angry?"

"Yes."

"Angry enough to hit things?"

"I- how?"

"You have four bruised knuckles…somehow I put two-and-two together."

"Yeah, well I'm pretty sure my mother will as well when she notices the hole in the wall, behind her out of place Waratah Flambé."

"So she doesn't know Ms. Gilmore stopped by?"

"No…and I'd like to keep it that way."

"Why's that?"

"I don't want…things like this need to be kept from my parents, more importantly, my mother. I don't want her to have more on her plate than she already does…she's convinced I'm insane and I don't want her to blame anyone else."

"More importantly, you don't want her to blame Rory?"

"Well…yes," I said uncomfortably. He made a note on his paper and went back to taking advantage of the fact that I wasn't quoting Hemingway or Bukowski.

"So…why don't we talk about the mistake you two mentioned?"

"What's to talk about?" I didn't want to even touch this subject…I could feel quotes coming the harder he pushed the issue.

"Well, what happened, for instance. Or why she feels it was a mistake and you don't? Something like that…" I could tell he thought if he could get me to answer one question things would start flowing out.

_"Scotch, please." I sighed, leaving the man a five and taking my drink. _

_"Oh, Emily…so good of you to come." _

_"Well, I was invited…plus, this is an occasion to celebrate!" _

_"Oh, that it is…Mitchum's so excited…he really thinks this paper will be a winner." _

_"I'm sure it will, Shira, anything Mitchum works at turns to gold."_

_Except for me._

_ I walked forward, extending my hand. "Hello, Emily." _

_"Oh, Logan…nice to see you…Rory's around here somewhere…" _

_My heart leapt. "Rory?"_

_ "Yes…her mother had something at work she couldn't get out of, and it was just Rory and I for dinner, and I had Shira's invitation, so I thought it'd be nice to come."_

_ "Yeah…" I scanned the room…and couldn't see her._

_ "Well, I supposed I should make the rounds, Emily. We'll catch up later?"_

_ "Oh, of course. Would you excuse me, Logan? I see a couple ladies from the DAR I need to have a word with…"_

_ "Sure, Emily…" I was again scanning the room, a refill. _

_"Scotch, please." I requested for the second time. _

_"Gin martini." I turned and noticed her, for the first time of the night. I quickly turned away as she had turned to look at me. We both stood awkwardly, waiting for our drinks that seemed as though they'd never come._

_  
"So…how are you?" She finally asked._

_ "I've been better…you?" _

_"I've been better as well…"_

_ "Really?"_

_ "That's what I said…"_

_ "I mean…you aren't out there seizing the world…reporting on things…taking the journalism world by storm?" _

_"Not really…I've been covering Obama's campaign trail…that's coming to an end…been applying to newspapers…but so far no word…"_

_ "You'll get a job." _

_"Thanks…that's nice."_

_ "No, I mean it…you'll get a job, you're a great writer, Ace." _

_She gave me a feeble smile, took her martini, and joined her grandmother._

"Logan?"

"No…I don't want to talk about it." He sighed, adjusting in his seat.

"Well…we did make progress this time…I'll see you Wednesday, Mr. Huntzberger."

AN: Okay...there was a very peculiar thing going on with the formatting at the end of this chapter...I went into edit and hopefully fixed it. It should be easier to read now, so that means you'll be able to submit a review! Okay...I put the flashback in italiacs...and someone complained about dragging out the "incident"...haha have to keep you interested:)


	4. I Guess I'm Horrible For You

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked down the hall on the way to my room. Fridays had always been, at the most, tolerable days…now I had sessions with Dr. Reed to taint them.

"Logan…could you come in here for a second?" I had walked past my father's study…stopping as he called my name. What he was doing home at three in the afternoon on Friday was above me…but why he wanted to see me was even more perplexing.

I hesitated in the hall before slowly walking back to his doorway and pausing.

"Sit." He commanded.

I obeyed, picking the chair on the right in front of his desk.

"So how are things going for you, son?"

"Just peachy, dad." I added emphasize on the last word, cocking my head slightly, and flashing him a Leave It To Beaver grin.

Mitchum chuckled sarcastically, trying to keep the mood light so I couldn't have the chance to get angry. "So, you'll be turning twenty-six in February."

"Oh…you remember." I said, still holding my sarcastic tone.

"Yes…in fact, I'd like to make you an offer."

"Will I be able to refuse?"

"Logan…you've taken to your old ways again."

"My old ways?" _So this is what he wanted to talk about. _

"The lazing around, drinking, spending days doing nothing."

"Spending days doing nothing…" I was nodding trying to grasp what was going through his mind.

"Its time you got back to work, son. I'd like to offer you a position at the new paper."

I took a page out of his book and chuckled sarcastically.

"It'll be good for you to get out…take your mind off things."

"Take my mind off things?" I was growing angry at his pompous attitude.

"Well, these past couple of months…have been difficult."

"For who?"

"Excuse me?"

"For who? Me or you?"

"Well…we're talking about you here, Logan."

"Oh we are…could've fooled me."

"Do not take that attitude with me-"

"Then don't act like a jackass."

"Alright, I've had enough of that." He was red-faced now.

"No. I've had enough, Dad. You get to prance around here acting like nothing's wrong, while I'm going through hell! You don't give a shit about me, that's why you spend all your time at the office. You couldn't care less what happens to me!"

"That is not true, Logan, you think you're the only one going through grief? Huh?" He stared at me, now marooned face, and my jaw was clenching. "I've had my fair share of grief throughout this whole thing, and so has your mother. You need to stop being a little snot-nosed brat and start living up to your life, the plans that we have for you."

"What about my plans? I already told you that I quit…I'm not working for you."

"Well I suggest you find something to do with your life or you can get your ass out of my house."

"Oh gladly, Mitchum." I pushed back my chair and let his office, running into my mother on the way out.

"Logan, honey. I heard shouting, is everything-"

I pushed past her, taking the stairs by twos up to my room. I didn't want to deal with anyone right now…I just want to sleep, or at least try.

_The music was strange…not something I knew to be played at most DAR events. _

_I walked the room, looking for familiar faces, someone who wasn't smothered in Dior perfume or cologne, someone who would hold up conversation not consisting of the lasted in draperies or antique cars. _

_I had failed at what I was trying to find and made a much-needed trip to the bar, ordering a scotch and returning to my family table, which was at the moment empty. _

_"Oh, she organizes the most wonderful events, Emily does." _

_"She didn't organize this one, didn't you hear?" _

_"No, do tell." _

_"It was that porcelain granddaughter of hers."_

_"You don't say…I figured her to be on the way to the Times by now." _

_"As did we all. Apparently the poor dear couldn't find work…such a shame. But she always did have a knack for these parties."_

_"Oh yes, I never saw why she gave it up, she could've had a great future at this."_

_"Well, the way things are looking for her career now, she most likely will." The ladies' tone dropped to a whisper. "Did you hear about her and the Huntzberger boy?" _

_"Yes, shame…they would've had beautiful children."_

_"Oh yes, her figure and eyes, and his hair and knack for success, would've been something." _

_"Well, that's the trouble with children, never know what's good for them." _

_I downed my scotch at the old hags' gossip. I didn't care for listening to it, unlike my mother, and cared even less for this particular subject. _

_I returned to the bar for another drink and was making my way back to the table, when I literally ran into an old…friend. _

_"I'm sorry." I said without looking up, and immediately went to pick up the shards of glass on the polished floor._

_"It's okay…" She trailed off, wiping at the liquor stains on her silk dress. _

_I returned to my normal height, holding the shards of glass in my hand as I noticed whom I'd run into. _

_"Rory." _

_She looked up. _

_"Oh, Logan." _

_My gaze drifted over here, taking in her stunning features. Her pale blue dress made her eyes shine, and curly hair seemed darker and more breath taking than normal. She truly looked enchanting. _

_"Logan?" _

_I returned back to consciousness and noticed her furrowed brow. _

_"Logan…your hand…" _

_I looked briefly at my hand containing the glass, noticing that I had been clutching it, causing my hand to bleed._

_I dropped the contents of my hand onto the bar counter, quickly placing a napkin to the cuts. _

_"Here." She pulled a mini-bottle of alcohol out of her purse, and used the napkin as a swab to apply it. _

_"How convenient." I grimaced at the sting. _

_"It's proved to be…" She concentrated on cleaning the wounds and I watched her. She finished before I knew it and pulled away from me, placing the alcohol back in her bag. _

_"Thanks…" I muttered, staring at my hand. _

_"Don't mention it…sort of comes with the job description…" _

_"The job description?" Although I knew what job she meant, I wanted to hear it from her, see if she would open up. _

_"Yeah, I- I'm sort of doing the DAR thing now." _

_"Really?" _

_"Yep…" She nodded; holding her clipboard I knew would be her lifeline for this event. _

_"So, you haven't heard from any papers?" _

_"Uh, nope…" She replied awkwardly, tucking her bands behind her ear. _

_"Well, they don't know what they're missing." _

_"Thanks." She smiled looking away. I had already turned in my seat facing the bar, and ordered another scotch under the impression she had walked away. _

_"So what about you?" _

_I turned back around to face her. _

_"What about me?" I was curious as to what she was asking about. _

_"What happened to California?" _

_"I- couldn't make it work…" I lied, not wanting to recall and tell the days after her graduation. The days I spent in a drunken stupor. _

_"I'm sorry…" She said, and I could tell she understood the reason why I couldn't make it work. _

_"It's fine…there'll be other opportunities."_

_"No, I mean…" She looked at the ground for a moment, sighed, and looked back up at me, still clutching her clipboard, "I'm sorry." _

_I looked at the ground too. I didn't know what to say. Sorry couldn't make things better? She couldn't take back her rejection? All I knew was that I was sorry, possibly more sorry than she was. And I didn't want to hurt her, or tell her anything about my resenting her after she rejected me. "I'm the one who's sorry…I shouldn't have said all or nothing. I shouldn't have given you an ultimatum, Rory. I shouldn't have done things like that, and I wish I could do all of it over again…I would changed so many things." _

_"Its not all your fault, Logan. I'm sorry…it…I- I didn't have to be like that, I could've tried to reason with you, or I could've called…or tried to talk to you…I just…I" She was upset now. Her clipboard hung loosely at her side and her brow was furrowed like it always was when something was plaguing her mind._

_"It's not your fault…at all." _

_"But…I could've, done something…I could've-"_

_"It's not your fault, Rory." _

_"I know, but-"_

_"It's mine, and I've regretting it. I've felt awful. I just want to make things right." _

_"Make things right...?"_

_"I want to be with you, Rory." Oh, God, what did I just say?_

_"Logan…"_

_"Rory, just tell me if you want the same thing, or not? I don't want to wait any more…months have gone by…I didn't like those months, and I don't want to spend more moths like those. Just tell me if you want the same thing?"_

_"Well…I do…" _

_"You do?"_

_"Yeah…I mean, I don't want to get married…I just want to…be with you…" She had awkwardly opened up…and it had just made me feel indescribable. _

_I felt so over-the-top, so happy…I just wanted to actually be with her, I just wanted to have that again. "So…let's." _

_"Let's what?" _

_"Be together." _

_"I'm in the middle of an event…" Her eyes were wide and she spoke in a hushed tone. _

_"That's never stopped us before…" I remembered the vow renewal ceremony, and all the other times we'd done spontaneous, crazy, things. I longed so badly for that again. _

_"You're crazy…"She spoke much like the time I had dinner at her grandparent's and stole the sewing box. I wished things were like those times. _

_"You can say no, Rory." I didn't want to pressure her…I didn't want her to do anything she didn't want to…I wanted her to be with me because she wanted to be with me, not out of guilt, or anything else. _

_"I don't want to…" _

_"So…" _

_She breathed heavily, "So let's go." _

_I smiled, walking beside her, and leaving the room of gossiping ladies behind. _

_I hadn't slept; I took to watching her sleep instead. I just felt so happy for the first time in months that there was no way I was going to be able to shut my eyes. Watching her sleep was a much better alternative to dreaming, anyways. _

_Things were so perfect right now. I had returned to my apartment, instead of the Huntzberger house, and I was with the one person that I felt like I couldn't be without. The one who'd made me feel like a better person. Who made all my anxiety, and whatever else the therapist my father paid for told him I had. It just seemed funny to me that such a highly paid therapist could be wrong, pills weren't making me feel better, and I didn't need them. It was Rory that made me feel better, that made me want to have a purpose. _

_It was close to twelve before she woke up. I smiled at her when she rolled over. _

_"Good morning." _

_"Hey…" She replied softly. _

_"Coffee?" _

_"Yes, please…" she smiled. _

_I went to the kitchen to get coffee and returned to my room. Handing it to her I sat back on the bed. _

_ She sipped her coffee and I watched her again. She lowered her cup, and laughed. "What?" _

_"Nothing...I've just missed that." _

_"My drinking coffee?" She sounded amused. _

_"That…and this." I leaned forward and hugged her. _

_"I've missed this too," she said, hugging me back. _

_I pulled away after a couple of minutes. "So, what are your plans for today?"_

_"Well," she set her coffee down, "I should probably come up with an explanation for my grandmother as to why I went AWOL last night…and then I guess continue job hunting." _

_"Or you could…" _

_"I could?" _

_I leaned in to kiss her when my phone rang…snapping me back to a harsh Mitchum filled reality. _

_I sighed, "Hello?" _

_"Where the hell are you?" _

_"I'm…in my room." I said, not exactly lying. _

_"The hell you are. Logan Huntzberger, I want to know where you are right now!" _

_"I'm in my room." I said again, not sure of what else to say. _

_"Well, there aren't any stuffed Logan manikin in your bed, and I'm standing in your room, and I can say you aren't here." _

_"I…I'm in my room." Why couldn't I think of anything else? _

_"Your mother said you disappeared at the DAR even last night. Where did you go?" He demanded. _

_"I went…you know, uh, I'll get back to you." I hung up the phone and set it back on my nightstand. I turned to Rory, "Well…looks like I'm in trouble." _

_"You're living with your parents?" _

_"Yeah…there really wasn't much of a choice." _

_"Then you should probably get back…" _

_"Rory, I don't have to…"_

_"But you should, Logan…I don't want there to be trouble between you and your parents, especially because of me."_

_"You're not causing trouble." _

_"Yeah, but you staying here, because of me, without giving them an explanation is." _

_I sighed, "You're right...I'm going to take a shower." I kissed her cheek and she smiled. _

_I walked to the bathroom when I heard her phone ring; I closed the door and turned on the water, drowning out her voice. _

_I stepped back into my room, and noticed that Rory was dressed and putting on her shoes. _

_"Where're you going?" _

_"Logan…" I sighed; I knew things were too good to last. "I have to go…" _

_"Where?" I asked, getting out clothes…moving, trying not to think about what she was going to say, trying not to look upset or disappointed. _

_"Um…home." _

_"Why?" I fired back quickly. _

_"Uh, I have something planned…I just forgot…"_

_"Is there someone else, Rory?" _

_"What?" _

_"Are you seeing anyone?" _

_"No…"_

_"So, you're just leaving?"_

_"Well, I told you I forgot I had something planned…"_

_"That you just now remembered?"_

_"Well, yeah…"_

_"Why do you keep lying to me, Rory?" I turned to face her. _

_"I'm not…"_

_"Tell me why you're leaving." _

_"I already did."_

_"No, tell me the real reason."_

_"I did. I have something planned." _

_"Stop lying." I demanded. _

_She sighed; her posture slumped. "I told you." _

_"No, you lied. Tell me the truth." _

_"Fine, Logan, fine…I- I can't do this."_

_"Do what?" _

_"This." she looked around the room. _

_"So, just like that?" _

_"It's not going to work, Logan…I think we both know that." _

_"I sure as hell don't! I thought things were fine."_

_"Well, they aren't." _

_"Why?" _

_She hesitated, and then finally spat out an answer. "Because I don't love you…" _

_I just stared at her. I couldn't believe. She had slept with me, told me she loved me, spent the night with me, and now was taking it back. _

_"You don't mean that…"_

_"Logan, I have to go…" _

_And I let her; I just stood rooted to the spot in front of my dresser, and watched her leave. _

The memories made me sick. I hated thinking about it. I hated the things that happened next.

All I could do was try and sleep, and hope that maybe I wouldn't end up replaying what happened in my dreams.


End file.
